


Very Best Ink

by romanticalgirl



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Gym Class Heroes, best ink
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 06:51:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl





	Very Best Ink

Pete hasn’t seen Travie in ages, since they did the video together he thinks. They’ve talked numerous times, just to shoot the shit, and also so Pete could convince him that coming on Best Ink was actually a good idea. Travie’s always game for stupid shit, and considering some of the ink they both have, it’s not like taste or actually talent has actually ever been a requirement for them. 

He hears him before he sees him, calling out to Sabina as he makes his way down the hall to Pete’s dressing room. Pete opens the door before Travie can even knock, launching himself into his arms and hugging him, wrapping his legs around him. “Travie Travie Travie.”

“Hey, Wentzlet.” Travie hugs him back, because that’s what Travie does with his long arms and his soft beard scratching at Pete’s neck. He smells like weed and peppermint and cinnamon, like he wasn’t sure which gum flavor to go with, so he tried a little of everything. The only thing missing is Fruit Stripe. “How you doing?” He walks into the room and kicks the door shut behind him. 

“Better now. You’re here.” Pete smiles and tightens his legs around Travie’s waist. “This is going to be awesome.”

“Yeah, well, I’m no Gabe Saporta.” 

“Gabe’s all weird about body modification and Hebrew stuff. I don’t know, it’s over my head.”

“That’s because he’s a good foot taller than you.” 

“Asshole.” Pete buries his head against Travie’s neck again, breathing him in. “You’re early. I mean for the taping. Are you here for meeeeeeeeee?”

“You are the neediest little shit.” He dumps Pete in the armchair and leans in, his hands on the arms on either side of Pete. “Yeah, I’m here for you.” He nuzzles Pete’s nose with his and then licks Pete’s lips before kissing him, catching the huff of breath that escapes Pete’s mouth before it can go anywhere. Pete sucks on Travie’s tongue as it slides into his mouth. Definitely Big Red gum. He laughs against Travie’s mouth and Travie pulls back, eyebrow raised. 

Pete just grins and slides out of the chair onto his knees, mouthing at Travie’s dick through his cargo shorts. Travie laughs, low and hot, and Pete can hear his short nails scratch at the fabric of the chair as he shifts his weight. He brings his hands up and undoes Travie’s belt, pushing it out of the way to open his fly. Travie doesn’t believe in underwear unless he’s trying to show it off, so Pete gets hit with the hot smell of musk and dick. He groans and leans in, inhaling deeply.

Travie’s dick twitches, starting to fill out a little even as Pete wraps his mouth around it. He feels it swelling against his tongue, getting bigger and harder as Pete sucks. Travie shifts his hips so his shorts slide down his thighs. Pete brings his hands up to Travie’s hips and rubs his thumbs in small circles over the curve of his upper thigh. “Fuck, baby boy.” 

Travie cups the back of Pete’s head, his fingers curving around his skull from ear to ear. Pete groans again because he loves the way Travie just manhandles him. It also gives Travie leverage, and he starts thrusting his hips, fucking into Pete’s mouth. Pete moves his hands, the tips of his fingers raking down the curve of Travie’s ass, cupping it and pushing him deeper into his throat. It’s Travie’s turn to groan, his hips jerking sharply. Pete chokes, holding onto Travie tighter so he can’t back off, swallowing and relaxing his throat. Travie thrusts again, and Pete takes him easier.

“Gonna know, baby boy. They’re all gonna know you’re sucking my dick. Gonna look at you and know your mouth was tight around me, know I was fucking your mouth.” Pete gasps and groans at once, nearly choking again. He can feel spit on his chin and taste Travie at the back of his throat. He moves his hand, fingers brushing over the crack of Travie’s ass and making him jerk again, growling. His voice is gravelly like he’s been performing all night, doing shots of whiskey between songs. “What d’you think you’re doing?” 

Pete tries to shake his head, but he can’t move with Travie’s hand holding him still. His fingers tighten like he knows Pete’s going to respond, but then everything narrows to the hot rush of Travie’s come thick in Pete’s throat. He sucks harder, Travie’s dick caught between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, milking it until Travie’s hand tightens in his hair and he practically pulls Pete off of him. 

Pete stays on his knees, looking up at Travie. His cock is hard in his black jeans and he’s pretty sure his nicely ironed black shirt that wardrobe gave him is kind of wrecked. He doesn’t care. “Hi.”

Travie laughs and curves his fingers under Pete’s chin. “You know you’re not coming until taping’s wrapped up, don’t you? Until I can take you home and bend you over the couch and work you open for a good hour before I slide my dick in that hot little ass of yours.” His mouth is curved in an evil grin, and Pete almost comes right there. “You do know that, right?”


End file.
